#grey's hellspiral

[dearophelia]

okay but hear me out

addison as a life domain cleric

mark as an oath of glory paladin

derek as a divine soul sorcerer

this is, like, a terrible party but gods it’d be funny

[dearophelia]

Queer theory counter-arguments:

Someone doesn’t need to have experience with a specific gender in order for their sexuality to be valid. This is as true in fiction as it is in real life. If you headcanon Addison as bi, it doesn’t matter if she’s slept with or dated a woman or not. It doesn’t matter why she has or hasn’t. She’s still bi. Same logic applies if you headcanon her as a lesbian – her relationships with men do not invalidate her sexuality.

Not every queer person shows external indicators and signals of their queerness. Sometimes it’s for safety, sometimes it’s preference, sometimes it just happens. “Straight-passing” is a thing and it’s no one’s business if or why someone chooses to present that way. Presenting in a certain manner is not a requirement of a given sexuality, nor does not conforming with stereotypical aesthetics and behavior determine someone’s sexuality.

Addison is coded straight as a wooden board. That doesn’t mean she is.

OKAY. As promised. Re : Addison Montgomery Queen of Heterosexuality, Has Never Laid a Finger on a Woman Unless Her Job or The Male Gaze Demanded It.

I get it. I see it. I perfectly understand it. It makes sense, really, even if it hurts my soul. However.

I have many counterarguments. But for the sake of easing into it, and also, finally telling someone about this particular thought... let me just say... Savvy.

Best friend, ex-roommate, "hey, can I get a boudoir photoshoot done by you and you exclusively before they take my tits away, it will make you smile a hundred times more than Derek has in the entirety of this season", Savvy.

There is no way. No way. Those two didn't make out/sleep together at least once just for the thrill of it, no males to impress, no ovaries to take out. Just Addie, Savvy, bottles of wine, loneliness, stress, curiosity and my roommate is fucking hot thoughts.

(You can argue that that's the 0,5 in Addison's kinsey scale placement. That's fine. I can keep going <3)

back to Addison's maybe-possibly-or-not Sapphic adventures! Okay, first of all, I want your counterarguments! I bet they're great. Second of all:

"Addison Montgomery Queen of Heterosexuality, Has Never Laid a Finger on a Woman Unless Her Job or The Male Gaze Demanded It."

This made me snort. Thank you.

Okay, NOW. Back to Addison/Savvy. I like the picture you're drawing (heh) and now I feel like I'm going to fall into my usual downfall of "I can't picture it so maybe I'll just try to write it dow-oh yeah, I can see this." I still struggle with seeing it, though. Bottles of wine, loneliness, stress, curiosity, this I can see, but why are there no guys around? Because our Addison is very, very good at finding a guy when she needs to scratch the itch. Too good. Maybe I can figure out a reason why there are no guys around?

I want your counterarguments! Because I still keep seeing Addison as Charlotte in that one Sex & the City thing where she tries to fit in with the power lesbians and finally they're like "that's all well and good, dear, but if you're not going - "

(Which is like a conversation probably most of us have had to have at some point!)

But like. We all have hot friends we don't hook up with! (Right? Or am I just old?)

Anyway, I'm into exploring Addison/Savvy. So to speak. But just for the attention chance to write something different.

[grxmincvdescxnce]

( vanessa morgan, she/her, dreamshade ) to SIOBHAN ‘LALA’ GREY, the whole world looks like an open page. with a leap of faith, their ability of DARK SOUND MANIPULATION grows a little stronger.  they are a PYGMY GOAT shade aligned to HOUSE of VANITAS. for TWENTY-FIVE years, they have survived a world of magic with both their DEVOTION and SHAMELESSNESS. they work as a MUSICIAN AND CON ARTIST, but if they could change their fate, they’d want to ACHIEVE GENUINE FAME.

inspo includes the likes of the following: osaki nana of nana, malandro michiko of michiko to hatchin, djali of disney’s hunchback of notre dame, megara of disney’s hercules, blake belladonna of rooster teeth’s rwby, rogue of x-men evolution, and kushinada lucyna of cyberpunk: edgerunners.

&. ⸻ BASICS

name — siobhan lyra ‘lala’ grey 

aliases — shiv, lala

birthdate — february 28

zodiac — pisces

birthplace — selphia

sexuality — panromantic pansexual

alignment — chaotic neutral

temperament — sanguine

element — water

primary vice — lust

primary virtue — kindness

house — vanitas

occupation — musician and con artist

markings — too many tattoos and piercings

&. ⸻ HEADCANONS

the biological daughter of gilbert gladstone, of whom she knows little about on account of being raised by her hateful grandmother. this was after being taken in at the orphanage for most of her young life. she never knew her mother or stepfather either, but a lot of shiv’s life seems to center on this theme of abandonment and making do with what she’s given.

despite her time at the orphanage and eventually being ‘taken in’, her life has revolved around essentially being a homeless street urchin. as a result, she’s generally pretty uncomfortable in anything that isn’t completely rundown. homes or otherwise.  

the name ‘lala’ would come of her tendency to belt out songs randomly while wandering the orphanage halls, harboring no shame for her first love. this is also the name she's gone by more recently, on account of being in hiding.

she doesn't care about anything except her music career which teeters on the brink of being something and nothing, with crime serving its purpose as an avenue to secure funds and keep her afloat, being all she really knows. her band hellspire, which tends to vibe more along the lines of pretty reckless meets jack off jill with the band forming a perfect trio with her as the lead vocalist, has had its share of successes even under the chaotic circumstances shiv often finds herself in. they are now working on their second album, somewhere in between all shiv’s troubles. 

pink is actually not her favorite color, despite what her consistently pink dyed hair would imply. while incognito as she is, she tends to wear plenty of wigs with her disguise enchantments in this color as well.

her style tends to be very rocker goth girl chic, with leather and blacks and rather revealing wear comprising of most of it.

shiv has a habit of sleeping around freely, using such opportunities to keep a warm bed for once. she’s absolutely shit at picking partners, however, with most tending to be less than ideal personality wise.

she curses like an absolute sailor and can be pretty argumentative

her life’s moto is ‘whatever happens, happens’ believing she’ll always survive the worst of what comes, given all that’s transpired   

&. ⸻ DREAMSHADE FORMS

pygmy goat ( base ) — think djali of the hunchback of notre dame. — for reference: here

&. ⸻ ABILITY

dark sonokinesis — the capacity to create, shape, and manipulate the audio or sound of a darker, detrimental nature; that which damages, destroys, and consumes any and everything they come across.

born with vibration manipulation. following experimentation by the nefarious family of time manipulators, her death and revival by 'time magic' among other means reverts her back to life and alters her, resulting in her body and power warping. she becomes a literal shadow of herself, a being of death with gilbert's dna reshaping her, her body going through phases of shadow 'rotting' and disappearing because of the sort of magic and method used to revive her. releasing her musical energy seems to stabilize her, but it is a balancing act as too much use can certainly expend her energy and kill her again.

&. ⸻ HISTORY

rumor has it, her mother suffered an overdose and her stepfather wanted nothing to do with her after, on account of his own struggles, pawning her off initially without her grandmother’s knowledge. her grandmother wouldn’t realize shiv’s status in the orphanage for several long years, until she was nine. she would reside under her grandmother’s more criminal influence in time, pickpocketing soon leading to bigger scams by way of a local criminal ring that centered at the orphanage’s doorsteps and among night dwellers. 

most any funding she’d secure was delegated to her grandmother’s purse instead of her own hand, barely getting by for all her troubles. shiv’s dream of pursuing her music would fall by the wayside though not completely. she still finds time, somehow, to work on her craft and form her band, hellspire, with some old orphanage pals. the idea of actual fame keeps her mentally strong from all the bullshit she suffers at her grandmother’s hands and in her day to day. 

true salvation would supposedly first arise by way of a pretty face who swore to offer her the world on their terms, a reputed godsend in the form of a peculiar man and his strange ‘family’. her grandmother would buy into their promises far easier, the woman’s age getting to her in more ways than one. but the lure of immortality was great and for shiv’s part, the woman for all her faults still remained her only true family. the trade was set in a matter of days — her grandmother’s chance for youth traded for most of shiv’s ‘savings’ and then some. 

rather than delivering on empty promises, the time manipulators effectively betray the likes of shiv, her grandmother, orphanage children of her particular disposition, and anyone else who dared to dream. the ‘youth serum’ would not last, shiv’s grandmother passing just as quickly as she reverted. and shiv’s services would be secured as further payment for what she could not secure previously. her life traded for the whims and wants of her grandmother at 16. 

it is through this arrangement that a second chance arises, however — an outlier of a crew operating within the time family’s grasp under similar circumstances as her own, approach and befriend her. they, over a span of years, convince her to take one last shot at freedom alongside them, detailing a complicated plan of treachery towards their ‘saviors’ and a final score sure to bring in the big bucks. they would rob the family of all their wealth and distribute it among themselves, other orphanage children they’d seen pulled into the fray. things do not go as intended, with the crew in question serving her up on a silver platter by way of stabbing her in the back when the worst comes. because of this betrayal, shiv eventually meets the family’s true work — heinous and abhorrent experimentation. all in the name of claiming true eternal youth. 

shiv would meet a temporary death in this way, her revival barely secured by time reversal magic and some other means she dare not try to grasp. with this resurrection came a few things, however: her body reforming into a sort of shadow husk — half dead — and her powers shifting into something more destructive as a consequence of her crossing the barrier between life and death more than once and the make up of her dna, her eternal servitude to the family all but secured on account the debts she now owed. even so, she takes advantage of all the confusion she would cause with her new abilities and go on the literal run.

she still knows nothing of her father, gilbert, but having come across his name and former actions from files secured for all the family’s victims, she’s sought him out not for the sake of finding family again, but if only to try to understand the best way to deal with her mounting debt and troubling situation. after all, a renown thief may in fact know best. 

[basementdwellercreaturefeature]

You suck so bad and I fucking love you for it.

@tevinter-pariah said something that got me both excited and depressed at the same time: “Anders is everything that people fear about mages while trying to prove that they aren’t to be feared.” 

Goddamn. The irony here is exquisite and why I so thoroughly enjoy this franchise. It’s ripe with this kind of shit. The cruel dichotomy we see in so many Dragon Age characters are why I keep falling deeper and deeper in love with it and its why I wheeze for my favorite shifty apostates. Especially my wife, Morrigan, who is my wife and we are married as she is my wife. Allow me this moment to rhapsodize about my favorite magical fuck-ups. Starting with the sewer doctor, moving on to the swamp witch and then finally the ethereal egg.

Now, I could talk about Anders all day and frankly I kind of do. That man is irony walking around in a trench coat, pretending to be human. His desire to remove the stigma about mages leads him down a hellspiral in which all he does is increase the stigma about mages. In an attempt to start a revolution and fight for mage freedom, he inadvertently increases the prevalence of fear-based ideology against mages that makes them cling to their Circles more and supports public opinion that they are imbalanced and dangerous. Anders does more for anti-mage sentiment than most Templars do in a lifetime and it makes me want to both punch the shit out of him and give him a hug because that is the last thing he ever intended.

The tragic irony here is both life-giving and devastating and it makes me feel a lot of shit and write a lot of blog posts. Justice enables him with the fortitude to take action for mage-rights, but the influence of Justice drives him toward a No Compromise™ solution that is so disconnected and extreme it entirely undermines his cause. It practically puts me in a coma thinking of post-Kirkwall Anders, a man who we are shown has immense compassion, realizing that he sacrificed lives in hopes of the ends justifying the means and then nothing changes it only gets worse for mages. 

He really sucks.

And my wife, Morrigan, who is my wife, is both harsh and gentle, cold and inviting, powerful and weak. She almost took my Warden’s goddamn kid from him and it broke my heart but man, her arrogance is somehow endearing because its so often sourced in uncertainty. The deeper you go, the more you want to reach out and offer a comforting embrace to the woman who struggles with both knowing too much and too little all at once. No, you don’t try to change her. You shouldn’t, she can change on her own. But you want to be there for her while she tears through the tangle of her own emotions, to see the untrusting swamp witch open for you when you earn it. So much of what drives Morrigan is being different from Flemythal but so much of what she does she only does because of what Flemythal herself instilled in her. 

In Origins, she is innocent of so many things. Human interaction, friendships, romantic relationships, the human-built world around her. Yet she is filled with vast lore knowledge and is both wise and willing to lend you that knowledge when you need it. She is capable of childish innocence and exceptional cruelty (ex. kittens holy cow). Morrigan is only able to keep Kieran safe for as long as she is because of the knowledge she gained from the one she is protecting him from. By the time we see her in DAI, she determined to be different than her mother but is still driven toward restoration of old magics and old histories based on the values instilled in her in her childhood. In so many ways, she has grown and changed. In others? Not so much. She still knows how to manipulate, she still can be cruel, she is more concerned with gaining access to the power of the Well than protecting the culture that created it. For someone who loves ancient lore, she is willing to shit on it to get her way.

She really sucks.

Solas is... different. I don’t have the kind of affection for him per say that I do for Morrigan and Anders. For them, I want safe spaces and soft whispers and great sex and the kind of laughter that makes their stomache ache. For Solas? I want to lock him in an Eluvian without access to the Crossroads somehow so he dies alone, gazing through the glass at a world and a woman he will never touch again. No, I am not bitter why would you think that. Honestly, I struggle with a pretty intense hatred toward the Dread Egg and find it hard to empathize with his plight after he revealed his intentions for Thedas. It isn’t a plight I find sympathetic, it downright turns me into a rage beast and I am often prone to frantically smashing my keyboard about him, staring the sentence off with “let me tell you about this mother fucker” or something of the like. But as a writer? I worship that elf. Patrick, your employment of the iam keeps me h y d r a t e d. That same exquisite tragic irony is present in everything Solas does. In his desire to restore, he destroys. In his desire to remedy, he creates more complication. It’s this heartbreaking destructive cycle that never ceases to enthrall me narratively. He is weighted with regret for a cycle he perpetuates, both sure of himself and desperately divided. He is the smartest stupid person there is. In an effort to bury the tyranny of the Evanuris, he himself becomes tyrannical in his refusal to allow the people of Thedas agency in their own fate. He is cruel and kind, humble and prideful, intelligent and foolish, childlike in his enjoyment of the sensual and austere in his refusal to engage in it. Solas is the man lighting his own pants on fire screaming, “Only I can fix it!” at the top of his lungs, as the team has put it. How can you not enjoy a villain like that? 

He also really sucks.

But its because the shifty apostates suck so hard that I love them so much, and in Morrigan and Anders case, why I am so deeply attached to them and what happens to them. I am new to the Dragon Age fandom and new to fandom culture in general, and I see something in this fandom that puzzles me exceedingly. Support is often equated to full acceptance and criticism is often equated to complete condemnation. I can recognize that Morrigan is cruel and selfish and still love her wit and strength and resilience. Similarly, I can recognize that Anders is reckless and self-righteous and immature and still appreciate how compassionate he is and his taste in cat names. With Solas, I can admire the eloquence of his writing and the subtle egg snark and his passionate nature while still recognizing that he is elitist and dangerous and a threatening antagonist. 

Being positive or negative in commentary is not about romanticizing a character or demonizing them, in my opinion. To me, it should be more about what view am I taking here? Am I looking through a lens of understanding in a desire to empathize? Or am I looking through the lens of critique to try to be more objective? Believe it or not, I can love Fenris and Anders, Alistair and Loghain. I can be anti-Circle while still recognizing the validity of them as an institution. I can be proud to be a Grey Warden while also highly critical of Duncan and the tactics of the Wardens in general. In the morally grey world of Thedas, a black and white view doesn’t really allow you to experience the full range of everything being offered. Let’s try to be more gay and more gray.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, have some killer piece by @withoutafuss​ because it really is one of the best Dragon Age pieces out there. 

[dearophelia]

church of scars :: graveyard [grey’s; addison]

church of scars :: chapter 1 :: graveyard

Addison Montgomery; past Addison/Derek; past Addison/Mark

After Derek dies, Addison finally — finally — flies back to New York to clean out the brownstone. She finds more than memories.

aka Sara’s Weird Little Ghost Story. For @evil-redhead, because she asked. 

She takes a deep breath as she steps out of the Uber. The driver’s kind enough to get her bag out of the trunk and set it beside her. Addison thanks him, tips him for the extra effort, and looks up at the brownstone as he drives off.

It looks the same as it always has. Brick exterior, plants out front, six steps up to the glass door, iron 20 above the door. She doesn’t enjoy the memories that flash into her mind of another time she was on this side of that door. But it’s cold, and she can’t stay out here forever, so she takes a deep breath, takes hold of her bag, and carries it up the stairs. She has to check her phone for the door code – the rental agent changes the code after each guest for safety – and it opens silently.

That’s what this house was a lot of the time at the end. Silent.

Addison sighs. While she’s long had anything she wanted from this house packed up and shipped out to California – and suspects Derek did the same – she still has an entire home to clear out. It’s time to relinquish this particular ghost.

As she walks through the silent halls and remembers just how big the house is, she wishes she’d taken Jake up on his offer to join her. A second set of hands would be just as helpful as a shoulder to lean on. Maybe she’ll call Amelia.

Cold wind blows through an open upstairs window. Frowning, Addison climbs the stairs in search of the culprit. Her frown only deepens when she doesn’t find an open window. She does a second circuit of the house, including the downstairs, but every window is shut. A draft, then. She doesn’t remember a draft, but she hasn’t been here in a long time.

Read chapter on AO3

[dearophelia]

[context] okay so i just played it out and it is absolutely doable for a level 20 paladin and a level 20 cleric to duo an ancient red dragon

it is painful and very nearly didn’t work, but it is possible.

the paladin went down three times (thanks, breath weapon) and had one spell slot left after all the smiting. the cleric was surprisingly sturdy in comparison (i suspect this has more to do with staying the fuck out of the dragon’s melee range more than anything else) but thanks to the paladin going down three times was completely out of channel divinity healing uses. but the cleric still had plenty of spell slots left, so could’ve gotten the paladin back up a few more times if necessary (just not as sturdily)

so basically that was an hour in roll20 spent to prove to myself that cleric addison and paladin mark absolutely could rescue their dumbass ranger (or sorcerer; i didn’t have to pull him in from reserve to heroically come in and help) friend derek from an angry ancient red dragon all by themselves

and apparently i have to write this au now because my brain won’t shut up about it

[dearophelia]

self indulgent grey’s spy!au

so i’m watching madam secretary again and it’s reminding me of the grey’s spy au i was frantically texting @evil-redhead about last year

(first of all, and i did the research to learn that this isn’t actually possible, but it’s fic so who cares: please imagine with me addison as elizabeth’s surgeon general. thank you and goodnight)

second of all, and this is just copy/pasted from text messages with some very light editing:

-one-

The kill order comes in over encrypted text just after 2:30am Kaliningrad local time. Addison knows the logic: take him out and the whole supply chain through the Baltics collapses. She also knows the reality: taking out gun runners in former Soviet states is like playing whack-a-mole with a baby hammer. Eventually someone in the Company will figure that out and change tactics. In the meantime, she has orders.

She speaks flawless Russian with zero accent, which helps when she steers the arms dealer out of the party and up to his private suite. She pretends she’s from the same village as his grandmother, tells stories about a local borscht variant. He compliments her tits and her legs and everything else he can see. What he doesn’t see is the way she twists around her ring and flicks open a hidden compartment with her thumb while she’s pouring the vodka.

Addison watches as he eagerly takes the shot and then turns an interesting shade of purple. He’s dead within ninety seconds.

She takes a shot of clean vodka, wraps up in her black trenchcoat, and slips out the back entrance into the night.

There’s a pay phone four blocks down. She calls her handler and leaves a message about the museum being closed tomorrow, code for mission complete. She checks out of the hotel and is on the next flight to Helsinki away from here.

-two-

Addison likes Mark Sloan, she does. He’s a good asset and a great fuck and she doesn’t at all mind that their schedules sync up in Helsinki more often than she syncs up with anyone else anywhere else. Helsinki’s a good place to lay low for a few days, even easier when she’s hardly getting out of bed.

But he’s DIA and she doesn’t trust defense guys farther than she can throw them. Goes out of her way to avoid them, usually. But Mark’s good company, great fun, and nothing they do in this hotel room ever happened the moment one of them leave. So she’ll let the DOD thing go as long as it doesn’t interfere with her own work.

He’s making breakfast and trying to tell her a joke he overheard. This never ends well, but she indulges him. It falls apart in the translation – “You’d find this hilarious if you heard it in the original Czech,” he proclaims, setting a plate of eggs in front of her.

Addison eyes him over a forkful. “Since I don’t speak Czech, your odds aren’t looking good, Sloan.”

Mark’s still telling his joke and she smiles as the sun rises over their tiny hotel room.

36 hours and then she’s off to Paris and meeting a DGSE contact she can hardly stand. Then, armed with that information, back to former Soviet listening posts. Maybe this one will be inland.

-three-

Addison takes the right hook like a champ, luring the goon into a false sense of security. She drops down, grabs a broom from the floor, and lets the guy have one last laugh at the pretty girl with the stick before she comes whirling in and knocks him flat on his ass inside five seconds. Another goon runs out of the shadows and she cracks him across the skull so hard he actually skids across the floor.

“Impressive,” her contact says in dripping French. He sips his tea.

“The file?” she holds out her hand. No one does intelligence theatrics like the French. Not even the Russians.

With an irritated sigh, the DGSE agent drops a USB drive into her hand. “It self-destructs after 24 hours. Would not recommend keeping it in your suitcase.”

Addison gives him a tight smile and returns to her hotel room.

Derek, this time.

(Mark is Scandinavia and the former Soviet states. Derek is Western Europe. Alex is usually somewhere in Central Asia and Jake is in the Mediterranean.)

She waves off his concern about the shiner blooming over her eye and slides the drive into her laptop. “Order room service,” she tells him as she pulls her shirt off, changing out of bloodied and ripped clothes while waiting for the drive to load.

It’s not his fault he hovers. He’s an embassy doctor, bouncing around Western Europe for the State Department. Last time he got into a fight was probably high school. Last time he had to do anything classified on his own was probably never.

He orders – including red wine and extra ice, which she’s sure makes the kitchen worker on the other end say a few choice things about Americans – and her laptop chirps ready.

Volgograd this time. Not a weapons dealer. A physicist. A nuclear physicist. “Oh boy,” she says to herself.

She books a hotel in Volgograd and then places a same-day Amazon delivery for post-its, a portable printer, tape, and other supplies. She and Elizabeth call it the conspiracy theory order, though she skips the red string.

While Derek’s setting out dinner (and sets a bag of ice intentionally – and somewhat aggressively – in her direction), she sends a secure text to Alex.

gonna be in vgrad for a minute. you nearby?

Dinner’s over before she gets a response.

yep. even have some intel for you.

Addison puts her phone away and turns to Derek. “I’m fine,” she says, gesturing to the cuts and bruises.

“I know.” Still, he wraps his arms around her in a gentle hug. “I worry.”

She hugs him back. They haven’t been married in a long time. “I know.”

He gently maneuvers her to the couch and opens his bag. Addison went to med school too – though the CIA scooped her up during her residency – and a few of the cuts need butterfly closures for a couple days. She lets him work.

“How are Meredith and the kids?”

-four-

“Lox and two chives,” Addison orders at the counter, as she has the last ten days. “And the bathroom key, please.”

The cashier slips her a key. She pays and disappears down the hallway with the bathrooms, but opens the supply closet instead. Past shelves of paper towels and cups and cocaine (not her problem, not today), she pauses at the second door. The handprint scanner flashes blue then green at her palm. The door unlocks.

Bright lights overhead, several whiteboards shoved up against the walls, photographs and maps taped up everywhere. The single desk in the middle of the room is covered in folders labeled TOP SECRET, most of them open. Alex puts a cup of coffee into her hand. She finishes half of it before she even takes her coat off.

Spy work isn’t all glamorous. It’s mostly sitting in dark dank rooms filled with boxes of moth-eaten paper, trying to connect two dots. Alex is a good partner for it though. The fact that he’s CIA too doesn’t hurt – she doesn’t have to play the alphabet agency paranoia game with him.

Hours pass. Another day, another half step closer. The bagel shop closes and they slip out the back by the dumpsters.

“You want to grab a drink?” she asks as she has every night.

“We could skip drinks,” he suggests.

She looks at him in the flickering parking lot light. Normally he says yes, they get drinks and dinner, talk shop, part ways at her hotel.

A small smile graces her lips. Addison doesn’t need to be a spy to pick up Alex’s meaning.

Volgograd is fucking boring. And she and Mark have an exclusive-when-we’re-in-the-same-city agreement, not exclusive-everywhere.

The smile shifts into a smirk. “Yeah.”

-five-

This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea. This might be the worst idea she’s ever had. And yet.

Flicking her eyes up to the rearview mirror, she gets a read on the car following her. Scratch that – cars. Plural.

She slams on the accelerator and calls Elizabeth.

“I need a favor,” she says as soon as Elizabeth’s picked up the phone. Addison hears several small children laughing in the background.

“On it,” Elizabeth says, once she’s heard the situation and the favor. “Give me ten minutes.”

Sure. She’ll keep leading a high-speed car chase through Southern Turkey and try not to accidentally make a left into Syria. She can keep this up for ten minutes. Why not.

She has the final piece in a USB drive hidden in her shoe, but this extremely stupid idea only becomes worth it if she – or, she supposes, her shoe – can get back to the agency. Which is where Elizabeth comes in. Addison’s nowhere near Ankara and the embassy, driving into Syria is an even worse idea (and she’d run out of gas long before hitting Damascus anyway), and so she needs an exit. Now.

Seven minutes and Elizabeth calls back about an airfield fifteen miles away. A Blackhawk will be waiting there for her, but she has to clear a couple layers of airfield security first.

Addison looks back up in the mirror. Three cars now and she thinks she sees the silhouette of someone hanging out the window with a gun. She’s going to have to have a discussion with Derek about suitable conversations he has with his current wife about his ex-wife the CIA agent and international spy. It’s not Meredith’s fault; GRU’s been tailing Derek since they were the KGB. Addison makes a mental note to remind State about that, maybe have someone sweep his house for bugs on a more regular basis.

But that’s a later problem. A much later problem. The more imminent problem is that she’s being shot at and still has seven miles before the airfield. “Can I just drive through security?” Addison asks, making an abrupt right down a skinny unlit street.

“Sure,” Elizabeth says. “It’s our airfield, do what you want.”

“Not the first time I’ve destroyed US government property.”

Elizabeth snorts. “Call me if you need anything else.”

The call drops as another round of gunfire shoots past.

“You’re really bad at this,” she mutters at the car behind her. They haven’t even managed to blow out the back window yet, not that she’s complaining.

By the time she hits the airfield, they’ve shattered the back window, blown several holes in the trunk, and they hit one of her back wheels just as she slams through the first security gate.

The second gate guards are a little more prepared and already have the gate lifted. They drop spike strips behind her to trap her pursuers. She jumps out of the car to the sound of many tires being violently punctured and the sound of angry Russians being thrown out of their cars and onto the ground.

The Blackhawk lifts off into the dead of night. Addison runs her fingers through her hair and texts her handler that she’s on her way back to Istanbul. She’ll hand off the intel to people who get paid a whole lot more than she does and move on to a new case.

Maybe South America, this time. Let some heat die down before bringing her back to Europe.

Once it’s all settled and she’s in her state-sponsored room, showered and sitting in a fluffy bathrobe, she checks her messages. One from her brother, about Thanksgiving logistics. One from Elizabeth, making sure she made it out okay.

And one from Mark.

Case is taking me to Venezuela. Gonna be a while, Red.

Addison grins. Her new orders came in just before dinner. Turns out there’s some worrisome news in her area of expertise coming out of the South America desk and the Company’s shipping her off to Caracas.

Maybe not. My flight leaves in a couple days. Buy me a margarita?

[dearophelia]

I mean...we both know what I’m gonna say for 🎵

Character: Addison Montgomery

Ship: Mark/Addison

#greyshellspiral

Addison: Adele – Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

Send my love to your new love

Treat her better

We've gotta let go of all of our ghosts

We both know we ain't kids no more

Mark/Addison: Lights – Almost Had Me

But did you know that cost when you broke your promise?

That when your bombs went off they would come down on us

I was a knife in a gunfight

And I fought so madly

You were a wolf in the daylight

And you almost had me

[dearophelia]

so Aly asked me to write this Addison ghost story, yeah? (yeah)

Beach houses in Santa Monica don’t get haunted. Estates in Connecticut with mailboxes in different zip codes from the front door get haunted. Addison knows how to deal with the ghosts of New England WASPs.

Be polite, but firm. Use please and thank you when asking them to stop knocking on the walls so you can finish your math homework.

Things will go missing. Picture frames will rearrange themselves, glass will break, and belongings will reappear in the oddest places. Learn what drawers to keep your keys in. And what drawers to put Archer’s in if he’s being a jerk and you want to mess with him.  

Locks only work against the living.

Don’t go into the attic unless you have to. Mostly because you’ll sneeze for days and one time it turned into an upper respiratory infection. But sometimes you climb up there and find things written in the dust.

Beach houses in Santa Monica do not appear to play by the same rules.

(Probably because it isn’t the house that’s being haunted. It’s her.)

[dearophelia]

i don’t want to write a wedding and i don’t want to write a mission rescue, so i guess i’m writing these idiots instead

They pass each other in the hall again in a few minutes – her on the way back from checking on Leah, him on the way back from the bathroom – and the air seems to spark between them. Their fingers brush together.

Addison’s honestly not sure if it was an accident. She could say it was: she’s tired and not used to sharing the hallway; maybe she drifted a little left of center.

Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t. Maybe Mark’s the one who drifted, disoriented from a long day and meeting his daughter, not used to hallways at all with his apartment.

Their fingers brush together. And in that brief half-second, Mark’s fingers curl around hers, just enough to hold if she’s willing to be held. And Addison’s fingers curl around his, just enough to say yes. They pause beside each other, so silent that the peaceful ocean tide sounds thunderous through the open window.

A half-step and a turn and their lips meet. Fingers part so Addison’s arms can loop around Mark’s shoulders and his arms can wrap around her waist.

It’s soft and simple and easy. And for the first time, there’s no one else between them. No husband, no booty calls, no interns, no nurses. Just them. There’s history and baggage and hurt big enough for several lifetimes, but there’s also future.

Mark rests his forehead against Addison’s. He loves his apartment in Seattle and finally feels like he’s home.

Addison takes a deep breath and catches his cologne swirled in the salty ocean air. She emptied the last box two years ago and finally feels like she’s unpacked.

"Goodnight, Addison," he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Smiling, she lets her arms drop and takes a step back. "Goodnight, Mark." She squeezes his hand once more before turning to her bedroom.

Mark watches her walk down the hall. Not away, not this time. Smiling to himself, he heads into the guest room and his own bed. He falls asleep to the sound of the ocean. It's so much nicer than rain.

[dearophelia]

okay I hated the 90s Lisa Frank gif tumblr stuck on here so it’s toast; here’s my year in review

I posted 842 times in 2021

230 posts created (27%)

612 posts reblogged (73%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.7 posts.

I added 318 tags in 2021

#g:mass effect - 86 posts

#oph texts - 65 posts

#t:stargate - 29 posts

#grey's hellspiral - 25 posts

#s:2021 - 25 posts

#livblogging - 22 posts

#mass effecting - 20 posts

#oph’s sick - 18 posts

#s:words - 16 posts

#s:waves - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#but like if i didn't have somewhere else to be at 8:15 the next morning i would absolutely drive through indiana for what amounts to a movie

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

please validate me (rebloggable!)

i’m having a hell of a weird time not dissociating from my body ever since it decided to betray me by expressing a cancer gene that came from a genetic line that was entirely men until me. so what do we do? take pictures for strangers on the internet and ask people who’ve not seen or heard from you in six months to validate your existence. yeah, that’s a good plan.

40 notes • Posted 2021-03-22 03:27:43 GMT

#4

also if anyone wants to contribute to my Stage IV Cancer Sucks And So I Have A Self-Care Fund, here is my kofi

(please rb even if you can’t donate)

61 notes • Posted 2021-11-27 03:09:06 GMT

#3

“Fighting is said to have reached Palaven.”

With all her breath and all her strength and all the conviction of all the stars in the sky, Olivia tries not to hear the newscast.

Not when she’s checking on Ashley, battered and bruised and unconscious, hooked up to machines dripping medicine and nutrition into her veins. One of the best soldiers she’s ever met, knocked down before the war hardly started.

(If you can call this a war. Olivia isn’t sure yet if it’s a war or a slaughter. She’s going to fight like it’s a war, though. Wars have hope.)

Not when she’s talking to the Council, hearing new voices stonewall her with the same arguments. Why should we care, she hears between the lines when Irissa and Isheel speak, our homeworlds are still green and golden. Quentius trades in favors, payment due up front.

(We’ve lost everything, she wants to scream at them. We’ve lost our homeworld, a fleet, our entire government, all gone in a single day and you still won’t listen. We can stop them, why won’t you listen. In the elevator, Liara talks her off the ledge. Barely.)

Not when she’s trudging back to the Normandy with nothing but bad news to give Hackett. With nothing but bad news to give her crew, skeleton and new as it is. Olivia’s no stranger to uphill battles, but the walk to Normandy’s airlock is a sheer cliff.

(This is the beginning, not the middle or the end. This heavy, suffocating feeling is a beginning.)

“Fighting is said to have reached Palaven.” The newscast cycles as the airlock closes behind her.

She can’t help but hear it now, on repeat through her head in the silent airlock.

With all her breath and all her strength and all the conviction of all the stars in the sky, Olivia begs the universe – please, if you have any kindness in you at all, please let him be alive.

68 notes • Posted 2021-06-22 03:25:34 GMT

#2

psa

think twice before you use battle/fight imagery to refer to cancer patients

most importantly, “they lost their battle with cancer” sounds like the patient failed. didn’t try hard enough, didn’t do the right things, wasn’t strong enough. it sounds like it’s the patient’s fault for dying. that’s hurtful. knock it off. 

also, battles and fights imply agency on behalf of the participants. none of us chose this. and most of us have no choice in what’s happening at any given time in our course(s) of treatment. we are the battlefields, not the armies. 

it may work for your loved one, or even you if you’re a patient. it may not! it may hurt people! so think that whole thought through before you speak it out loud okay? thanks

152 notes • Posted 2021-09-22 23:57:36 GMT

#1

this got eaten somewhere and needs to not have done that

1125 notes • Posted 2021-11-10 19:21:19 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[dearophelia]

WIP Sunday

i’m making it a thing because holy fuckballs i’m writing

"Okay," Amelia announces, leaning back in her lounge chair. She draws her feet up onto the chair and under her. "We've gotten Kyle, who neither of us know, macaroni, which I think is because Henry showed off art when you FaceTimed him earlier, and g-n-o-r-y-d, which is not a word. I hate to admit it, but I think the board is a bust."

Addison swirls her wine around in her glass before taking a sip. "I don't know whether to be happy about that, honestly."

"I'm not googling how to hold a séance," Amelia says, staring out into the night.

"You're thinking about it, though."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to." She swings her legs around so her feet are on the ground again and looks straight at Addison. "Derek is haunting you. Or the house. Whatever, he's here. He's not in Seattle with Meredith. So that means he has unfinished business with the house, which seems unlikely, or with you."

Addison blinks. "When did you become an expert on ghosts?"

"I watched a lot of Ghost Hunters in rehab."

[dearophelia]

so for detail on how painful it was

(and proof that life domain clerics are where it’s at)

addison had 161 hp. all 100 of mark’s lay on hands pool went into her in round 2.

she also recovered about 90 hp over the span of three turns by doing a bunch of upcast mass healing word spells; not only does she do max healing with her spells, her disciple of life and blessed healer features gave her extra health regen because the spell healed someone else

she finished at 94 hp

more importantly –

addison’s preserve life channel divinity option lets her restore up to 100hp at a time; she can use this four times per short rest (three naturally, +1 from an amulet of the devout). she can’t use it to heal a creature to more than half its hp max

mark had 222 hp.

so at most, addison can heal him back to 111 with preserve life

addison used preserve life four times, pumping 100 hp into him each time. three of these four times, he was unconscious.

she also dumped three fifth-level mass healing word spells into him

when mark dealt the killing blow on the dragon, he had 3 hp left

tl;dr dragon did at minimum 600 points of damage, tip your clerics

[context] okay so i just played it out and it is absolutely doable for a level 20 paladin and a level 20 cleric to duo an ancient red dragon

it is painful and very nearly didn’t work, but it is possible.

the paladin went down three times (thanks, breath weapon) and had one spell slot left after all the smiting. the cleric was surprisingly sturdy in comparison (i suspect this has more to do with staying the fuck out of the dragon’s melee range more than anything else) but thanks to the paladin going down three times was completely out of channel divinity healing uses. but the cleric still had plenty of spell slots left, so could’ve gotten the paladin back up a few more times if necessary (just not as sturdily)

so basically that was an hour in roll20 spent to prove to myself that cleric addison and paladin mark absolutely could rescue their dumbass ranger (or sorcerer; i didn’t have to pull him in from reserve to heroically come in and help) friend derek from an angry ancient red dragon all by themselves

and apparently i have to write this au now because my brain won’t shut up about it

[dearophelia]

i actually statted this out to level 20 and

addison the smart damage-dealer with a +17 to medicine, who knows a bazillion languages, has all the healing spells and a metric ton of damaging spells plus a baller quarterstaff because of who i am as a person

mark the tank, with charisma coming out of his ass, whose spell save dc is literally 21 so things probably cannot succeed against his brilliance, wields a holy avenger greatsword with holy weapon stacked onto it because why the fuck not

and then there’s derek. who probably got one-shot by the dragon because he has a whole 82 hp because sorcerers are a joke. i tried to spec him out as spectacularly as addison and mark, i really did, but sorcerers only get fifteen spells (and they’re learned, not prepped) and have laughable hit dice.

meanwhile addison can heal 300 hp per short rest because life domain’s channel divinity is insane and mark’s out here dealing at minimum an extra 6d8 radiant damage per turn because holy weapon and improved divine smite are funny

(there’s an au here isn’t there. and i’m gonna end up writing it, aren’t i. cleric addison and paladin mark go to save their friend sorcerer derek.)

okay but hear me out

addison as a life domain cleric

mark as an oath of glory paladin

derek as a divine soul sorcerer

this is, like, a terrible party but gods it’d be funny

[dearophelia]

update: derek is a ranger, because if you’re gonna be mediocre you might as well be mediocre with triple digit hp

this does not change the plot at all because derek shepherd absolutely is the kind of person who thinks he can solo an ancient red dragon as a fucking hunter ranger

(i’m planning to actually play it out to see if it’s possible for addison/mark to duo an ancient red dragon – between the two of them they can heal 500 hp without spell slots, and both do an incredible amount of damage, so i think it’s at least theoretically possible

...this logic may be largely informed by that time i soloed the back half of the emerald graves dragon with ari)

okay but hear me out

addison as a life domain cleric

mark as an oath of glory paladin

derek as a divine soul sorcerer

this is, like, a terrible party but gods it’d be funny